Ambivalence in Ambiguity
by A Love Destructive
Summary: A string of seemingly random murders have been occurring over the past two months. Temari has watched over her brother Gaara, who has steadily become less stable. "...That's all that I had. Killing. This was what I did best...I was born damaged...."
1. Intro: the Voice of a Demon

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Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to _"Naruto"_ or any of the things affiliated with it.

...Damn.

A/N: By the way... This is to give you a sense of what this is about. Most definitely essential to the plot.

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"I think therefore I am." - Rene Descartes

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Introduction to** "Ambivalence"**: **"The Voice of a Demon"**

I'll speak plainly here: I would have it said that I was never human.

**_no. never._**

Human. Humanity. Humane. These are not things I would ever have been, not words I would have ever used to describe myself.

_**no -never.**_

Let me state that I acknowledged this. Accepted it, if you will. I never called myself human. I knew I was too... "rambunctious" shall we say? There was too much of a blurring of pleasure and pain in my antics for my actions to ever be accredited to the little scrap of humanity I did have. And let me say that I acted as a monster of my own free will. Killing. Maiming. Brutalizing. I specialized in it. I held these things close to me. These things were what I lived for. I was made for it. That is all. Nothing else. I would not even dare to claim anything as my own. Monsters, demons do not have possessions. I have nothing but myself. I love only myself. I need only myself. But I myself am weak. I am troubled. My soul is troubled. My spirit oppressed. My heart long-broken. But I could not ever admit this. I couldn't leave myself unguarded.

_**no...never.**_

That would be would be a weakness I cannot afford. But where did I get my strength? From the pleasure and satisfaction of my kills. That's all that I had. Killing. This was what I did best. This is what I was born for. Though sometimes...I admit that I got a little carried away in my fun. But I did not break. I did not. I was born damaged. A monster. Ostracized. Hated. Feared. Ruined. I was. I was. I know what it is to be alone because of this. Because of them. I know. I know now. It hurt me. The pain hurt me and so warped me that I am no longer recognizable as a human. Tainted. Untouchable. I could not be physically hurt. I was never hurt. I was the ultimate weapon. A tool. And tools are ambiguous. It is what they are used for that is good or evil. But that is up to you to decide. Me? I don't believe in good or evil. Those are weak human concepts used to dictate the standards and rules of society so that humanity can withstand the inexplicable and unexplainable. Humans must have order. They need chaos. These human concepts are not applicable to a monster like me. I am incapable of this reasoning. By choice. I choose to be a monster. If I was human I would not survive. I have no morals. No regrets. I am only a tool. A monster. A weapon. To be used. For what? You decide. I've said my piece. And you know now. What I went through. What I survived. And you know. You know that you couldn't have survived it. It's too harsh for a human, compassionate as you all are. It's too agonizing. You couldn't have taken it.

_**no, never.**_

If I may speak again, let it be known that I never said that I ever wanted this. Because I didn't.

**_Ever. _**


	2. Prologue: A small hope

Disclaimer: Not owning _"__Naruto__"_...still...

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"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love."

- Stendhal [French 1783-1842]

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Prologue:** A Small Hope**

**The door to the condo slammed open**; a ghastly apparition appeared in the doorway. Temari shivered as she looked at her younger brother, come back from his latest commission. The young man was drenched in blood, so much so that his clothes appeared to be black; he looked like an extra from a horror movie.

He skulked over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet over the sink, accidentally smearing blood all over the wood and staining it like so many times before. He filled it up with water and downed it in one huge chug and, unsure of what to do with it next, shoved it under Temari's line of view.

_Ew_. Temari flinched away. "What the _hell_, Gaara?!" she took the glass with two fingers and dropped it in the sink. "One of these days _you'll_ do the fucking dishes! See how _you_ like it when you know that what you ate off of or drank out of was formerly covered in leftover human bits." She ran the water hot to rid the cup of the stains, "Ugh! It's disgusting."

Gaara merely stared at Temari and shrugged. "I wouldn't care. It'd make the meal interesting." He picked up an apple and bit out of it, canines slightly elongated. They were that way naturally. "Besides," he continued, "if you don't like the way I live, then don't help HiddenSands Enterprises provide a normal familial structure for me. Don't live with me. Don't cook or clean for me. I'll just order take-out. I can take care of myself."

"Looking like that?" Temari deadpanned. "Yeah, that'd go over _so_ well with the delivery boy. Or our neighbors. And the police the neighbors would likely contact? They'd probably shit themselves. I take care of you because I _want _to, Gaara. Not because of the family business." _Definitely not because of the family business._ She sat herself down at the kitchen table and rubbed her eyes wearily. Time for a subject change. "I had Kankuro fix dinner earlier. He's out, though. Said he was gonna be late due to repairs on the A.R.M.s. You can have what's left of the baked ziti, though," she gestured at a large plate of it. "I already ate."

Gaara nodded and was about to join Temari when she suddenly shouted, "Hold it!" He stared at her, waiting. His black trench coat was still somehow dripping atrociously all over the place. His sister took a deep breath. Gaara was the reason _every piece of furniture _they had was either black or dark red; blood didn't really show on them. "Shower first. Then dinner and apple pie. Then we watch a movie. _Put on pajamas this time_. Got it?"

Gaara nodded again and headed for his bathroom. Temari got up and tiredly began to mop up and scrub off the footprints Gaara left all over the tile floor. What a mess...she definitely needed bleach for this. Only way to remove bloodstains.

She swore that he was just like a child sometimes. Always leaving things (weapons) around; disaster and chaos blossomed wherever he went. Only, instead of tracking mud in, usually it was blood or unidentifiable pieces of...human. She remembered the first time he had done it. He had been just four years old. She had been playing with her dolls outside in the front yard that summer. Kankuro tended to repair the broken ones and that day _was_ the same as any other. Until...

._..she heard Kankuro shriek._

_"Kankuro? What is it?"_

_Kankuro was shivering. He pointed frantically over her shoulder._

_Temari looked. "Kankuro, it's just Gaara."_

_Kankuro's lips pressed together and he shook his head. She wouldn't understand._

_Gaara stood under a tree, holding something small and furred in his hands. It was hard to tell what it was since it was covered in brown and red stuff and little white lumps made parts of it keep wriggling._

_"Gaara, don't scare your brother like that's not nice. And don't stand so far away. C'mere. Whadda ya got?"_

_Gaara shuffled shyly over to Temari, dropping his surprise in her lap. "I found it on the road. I thought it might be lonely so I brought it home..." he trailed off when Temari started to cry. "...What's wrong?" He tried to bring it closer to her but Temari only started to wail louder. "No one would help it. They didn't look at it. It was by itself. Like me." _

_It was a kitten, rotting and dead. Dead._

_"Like me..."_

Other little boys brought things home to heal and fix. Things to build and tinker with. Gaara brought things home that he considered were like him: damaged beyond repair.

"...Temari." She glanced up from her work, her old memories startled into hiding. Her little brother stood in the doorway clad only in his boxers. He was still bloody. Kind of crusty now, too, though.

"Why haven't you taken a shower yet?!" Temari gritted her teeth in frustration. "You've started flaking dried blood all over the floors! And you smell like death! And dead people! And death. Oh, I really hate your job!" She sighed inwardly but said, "What's wrong?"

Gaara gestured at the mop. "You don't have to do that..." he had the strangest look on his face.

Temari rolled her eyes. "If I don't do it, how will my kitchen ever stop reminding me of the movie _30 days of Night_?" she returned to her cleaning.

Gaara shuffled his feet. "I mean...I can do it. You don't have to. I'll do it for you..." Temari set aside the sponge and sat back on her heels. _ Is he actually...is he joking? No, wait. Gaara doesn't really have a sense of humor..._ "I mean...uh...you always do everything...and I could do something for a change..."

_So that's _it._.._ She shook her head. "That's sweet of you, but I can handle it. I'm your big sister. I have to scold you for making a mess." She shrugged and smiled at him tentatively, "Besides, it's only a little blood." _Understatement._ "Don't worry about it. It's how things are. You go wash off the crap on that beautiful face. You seriously need to start beautifying yourself. Otherwise, you'll _never_ get a girlfriend."

Gaara paused, then turned to his bedroom door for the second time.

"You _will_ take a shower for real, right?" Temari called after him. "I want to see that you're squeaky clean. Practically sparkling. Do you hear me, Gaara? Sparkling!"

He shot her a look and flipped the bird as he disappeared behind his door.

"Well," Temari called after him, "you can forget the apple pie after that." She smiled to herself. _So, maybe there's hope for him after all. All that was needed was to get him out of this business. Away from the family. Otherwise, one of the two would end up exterminating the other._ Yeah, she'd get the both of her brothers away, even if she died trying. _Then_, she'd work on his personality. And a girlfriend -he needed one badly; he needed to do something other than kill and skulk about. Even if it meant a girl. And humor. She really had to develop his sense of humor. _Dark humor seems to fit him best. Perhaps George Carlin's routines might work...? Whatever._ She would get him to develop healthily no matter what._ Now. What kind of teen eighty's movie should we watch tonight? Definitely a classic._ _How about Breakfast Club?_

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	3. Chapter 1: The Rundown

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Disclaimer: I own none of the characters. Only the plot and setting. Those are mine. 'Cause I made 'em up.

Author's Note: Ummm. So, yeah, first chapter! (Hooray.)

You know the drill. _italics_ is thought. I'd love feedback.

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"Please don't worry. I am doing fine. " - Escape the Fate, "Day I left the Womb"

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Chapter One:**"What a drag..."**

**Nara Shikamaru sat down **at the booth in "The Rundown", a new pub in town. He breathed in deeply. It was just the kind of place he loved. The relaxed atmosphere, the permission to smoke, the alcohol served and, most importantly, it was _not _a cop bar. _Yeah_._ Things are good right now._

"Hey, Shikamaru!" A certain troublesome female voice that he had heard and known for years now disrupted his state of calm. Cursed. He was cursed.

"Mm?" He glanced at her as she slid onto a stool next to him. Her miniskirt rode up her thighs, exposing flawless porcelain skin. "What do you want? And why are you here? This isn't exactly your scene." Not that he really cared. Much_._ But, Yamanaka Ino would tell him anyway so he figured he'd get it over with.

"Earlier, I called the department to see if we were still on for tonight -they put me on hold for_ever_- when that mean Hyuuga told that me you had already left." She pouted, her gorgeous face twisting into the kind of frown that could make any man grovel -if only to see her smile again. Except for close friends. They were wise to her clever ways. "Why didn't you wait for me? Am I not the love of your life?" _Oh, no. Not this routine again_.

"Yamanaka." He flicked his cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray. It was his tenth that day. From his second pack. _Stress be damned. _And, lately, the damned things were getting costlier by the minute.

Ino brightened instantly. "Yes? What, Love? What does that precious heart of yours desire?" She tilted her head playfully and crossed her arms so that her indigo top dipped, increasing the visible amount of cleavage. _Troublesome..._

"Shut up." _Please._

Ino pretended to be hurt. She threw her arms over the bar's surface and cried out, "Can I do nothing to please you?!" _Holy Christ._ "Why? Why, God, why?" She threw herself on him and he nearly fell out his seat. Her hands gripped his shirt. _This woman... _"Am I not good enough? What am I doing wrong? Tell me, Love, what can gain your favor? What needs be done? Tell me and I shall endeavor to earn your love again!" Ino looked at him with teary eyes.

Shikamaru sighed. "Woman, will you stop? This new case is a friggin' ball-buster." He turned to the barmaid who had been staring at the twosome's odd exchange. "A pint of Guinness," he ordered.

"Comin' right up."

"What do you mean?" Ino frowned as the woman set down Shikamaru's drink. "Isn't it the usual? Don't tell me that it's finally getting to you." The remark was casual, and the concern in her voice was carefully masked, but genuine. Shikamaru privately appreciated her consideration and the fact that she hid her concern when they talked; that kind of openness made him uncomfortable, even if he _had_ known her forever. He never was any good at that touchy-feely shit.

Shikamaru only shook his head and drank his alcohol. Just his luck that Ino was so nosy. Of course knowing other people's problems and helping them through them was her job. _Therapists and counselor be damned, too. _"It's definitely not "the usual". I don't even know how to describe this one. The victims all seem to have specific profiles...but we can't seem to profile the killer. It just doesn't fit. It's unlike anything we've seen." His hand shook from exhaustion as he set his glass down. A fair skinned hand covered his.

Ino smiled slightly, "If you ever need to talk or support you know that I'm here...you know where to find—"

A loud ring-tone of a ForeverTheSickestKids song suddenly went off. _"She's a lady and ladies shouldn't be messed with..."_

"Damn! I forgot my appointment with that creepy patient!" She frantically flipped open the cell. "...Kiba! I...listen, you mutt! I need you at this place called The Rundown in five! No, not hours. Minutes. Five minutes. Do you know where...? Okay, good. Get me back to my Flower Shop pronto! ...I don't care about Akamaru ...Akamaru is just a _bike_, Kiba. I can't _believe_ you _named_ it... Well, polish the stupid thing later...! ...Shut up. Get your flea-ridden ass down here! You owe me. No excuses!" Ino sighed and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "Another one of your flings?" _There seems to be so many these days_.

She grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "No. I'm dating, silly!" Her friend's eyebrow rose: _"silly"...?_ Ino sighed dreamily, "He's an artist. So profound and secretive ...and so dark..." She had that foolish grin on her face -the one that every lovesick female has. Makes 'em look stupid. _She must be really into the guy._

Shikamaru's lips twitched, "You mean he's one of those goth guys in skinny pants? With make-up? Well. Congrats, Ino. You do know how to pick 'em."

"No, he's not. Shut up. Like you should talk. You remember that one messed up girl you dated one time? Kin? I'm not the only one who's made some mistakes." _Oh. Right._ "Yeah, this guy may have problems but he is just the type of man I'd love to—"

"Whoa. Stop right there. Alright? Point proven. You shouldn't keep this Kiba guy waiting. Or your patient." _Like last time...._

Ino muttered a curse. "I'm sorry, Shikamaru."

"It's fine, Ino. That Kisame guy again, right?"

"...Kisame?" the barmaid looked up in surprise, her turquoise eyes widening, "As in The DJ "Shark" of Club Bait?"

Ino regarded her silently while Shikamaru nodded. The woman shrugged and busied again herself with polishing glasses.

Ino huffed, "I still feel bad, ditching you like Neji ditches us." Shikamaru snickered. _Ino feels like the Great Detective Hyuuga? That's a laugh._ "Well," Ino squeezed him, "Don't stay out too late, love. You'll need your strength for this one, I can feel it. Laters!" She kissed him lightly on the lips and ran out to greet the faint growl of a motorcycle. Shikamaru stared at the door for a second -then smiled to himself as it closed. There was a long pause.

"So..." the barmaid leaned on the counter. "She your girl?" Her eyes were trained on him, eyebrow cocked, smiling faintly.

_I could really enjoy seeing that smile everyday._ Then, the woman's words registered i his brain. _Ino? My? _Shikamaru flinched violently and froze, all bodily functions halting before he finally remembered to live. _Ino...my...?_ "Huh- no. She's been one of my closest friends since before I could remember. I could never date her. She knows me too well." He shook himself. Ino? Dating? Shikamaru? Those words did not belong in any combination in any sentence together. Ever. Never. Ever. Never. Ever. "Ugh. That'd be like dating a bothersome sister...all nosy...or something..." Never. Ever. Just _-no._

"Hm. I see." She returned to polishing. Shikamaru noticed that it was the same glass she'd been rubbing for five minutes. "So what, are you an officer?" She winced as she murmured "officer".

"Yeah," Shikamaru raised the glass to his lips, "sort of. I work on special cases."

The girl nodded, her sandy-blond hair glinting in the light, "Like what?" She kept her face disinterested.

Shikamaru frowned slightly, considering. _How much should I tell her?_ "Sociopaths...bloodbaths...serial killings..." The woman froze. Shikamaru continued, "The cases vary. Homicides, mostly. Profiling -occasionally. It's always the worst of the worst..." The sound of a glass mug shattering on the floor was deafening. Shikamaru jumped up. "Are you alright?"

The girl's hands were shaking. "God, how klutzy. I'm fine. I just need a moment..."

"I'm sorry..." _Oh, for the love of..._ "Uh, if I upset you... what I mean is um..." He wasn't used to soothing distressed women. Ino rarely ever got shaken up like this. She only acted the part of a promiscuous air-head for kicks. When they were kids, Shikamaru only became friends with her because she was so level-headed and insightful.

"No. No, it's not that, ah, I should get going. My shift is over and I've been here for a while so I think I'll just hand it over to Sunako -the other girl? I'll just call her." The barmaid began to gather her things and putting away glasses.

_Troublesome..._ He said, "Did I do something...?" She didn't pause. "Could I at least get your number?" _Whoa. Hold it. Where the hell did that come from?_ "Ah, I'd like to call you sometime..." _What am I...?_ "That is, if it's alright with you..."

The woman stared at him, a myriad of thoughts flickering in her eyes, and tilted her head coyly to the side. The lights overhead cast dancing shadows across her face. She flashed him a crooked grin, "Here's my card. Never ever call the fourth number. Even if you can't reach me on the other three." She waved over her shoulder, "Hope I see you again soon, Officer." The woman sauntered out like she owned the pub itself.

Shikamaru stared down at the card in his hand. _"Sabakuna Temari", eh? So. She does own The Rundown_. He pocketed it and left some money on the bar. Time to go home. Work to do. The case wouldn't solve itself. _Hells bells..._.

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The drive home just about killed (_bad choice of words considering my job_...) his formerly light mood. Only one word: traffic._ "Traffic"? How about "urban hell"? That fit much better._ He practically dragged himself up the steps in his apartment complex...of course he dragged himself anywhere but each trudge up the steps to his home was unusually heavy. He threw his keys down and sat down on his couch. The light in his sparsely furnished living room was dim, but that didn't lessen his analytical ability. Nothing did, it seemed. He wasn't known as "the Genius" for nothing. One of the best in the department. Of course, the entire team he belonged to was comprised of people who were prodigies in some way, shape or form. Only those were selected for the seventh division's special homicide case squad a.k.a. the "Horror Squad". A truly charming nickname. Uzumaki "the idiot/maverick" Naruto thought of it.

It had stuck. _Unfortunately._

He rested his elbows on his knees, bent forward. The contents of the case file were spread out on his (stained) coffee table. He stared at it. He squinted. Switched around the pieces and notes and documents of evidence. Studied the pictures. If he was still green it would have been hard to but the fact that he was used to it...well, that said something.

They were gruesome shots, something you would see in a zombie film, something only handled by the "Horrors" (another Naruto original). Body parts everywhere, blood splattered in seemingly random places, the flesh strung up across the ceiling (It had stuck. Took the CSIs forever to remove all the damned pieces.) as though it had been flung away. But these were patterns nonetheless. He _still_ had trouble making sense of it. Worst murder he'd seen yet. _Really, who deserved this? Who could have thought of this? Premeditated? Impulsive?_ He glared at the data (or rather the lack of it) and meditated. The details... he shuddered: it was...bestial. It only took one glance at the report Haruno Sakura (one of the most skilled medical examiners he'd ever known; she worked for them, thank the Gods) had written up about the scene and the body. The victim's body had been torn and ripped without any sign of bruising or striations. There was no evidence of the use of a knife, or blade. There was no DNA left behind but the victim's and the one(s) who discovered the body. Shikamaru grimaced. _How troublesome... this would take so long._

These homicides felt like they were the first few in a series of many others. "Oh, hell." Looked like he and slumber wouldn't be seeing much of eachother for a while.

"What a drag..."

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"Kankuro!" Temari shouted in the doorway, "where are you?" She hung up her red leather jacket in the foyer and shed her shoes. _Strange._ She glanced around. _Why didn't he answer...? _There was only quiet. "Kankuro, we have an emergency!" She opened the door to his room... "They know about—" ...And there he was.

_...All over the walls._

Temari's chest ached with the need to scream. Her fingers trembled on the doorknob. She shook her head in disbelief. _No. _This never happened. His head hadn't been bashed open and his flesh wasn't scorched and flayed into pieces. His blood wasn't pooling on the floor and his innards weren't hanging from the ceiling fan, dripping still. _No. No_. He wasn't dead. His body hadn't been butchered. He never had his head severed from his body, the face contorted unnaturally. Because, he shouldn't have been in agony. _No._ Because it did not happen. It did not happen. It couldn't have.

**_But it did. _**

_ Gaara. Where's Gaara?_ She needed to find him. Make sure he wouldn't see this. _Where is Gaara?_ She nearly dropped the phone onto the floor as she dialed for emergency.

_ "Hello?"_ the woman on the phone had a kind voice.

"I need to report...there was a murder..." _Come on...be strong. Don't cry. _"...my brother was killed. I found him dead... on his room."

_ "On his...? ...miss...? Where are you calling from?"_

"We live in a development called "The Dunes". Hurry. I don't know how my other brother will react when he comes back. I don't want anything else hurt.... Hurry." She hung up and sank to the ground. _Gaara. Stay away._ He's so fragile. _For your own good. Please_. By Amaterasu's Blade, how would he take it if—?

There was an almost undetectable footfall."...Temari...?" The familiar voice before her had cracked on the the last syllable. "...Temari, what...?"

_ Oh, no. Gaara... _"Kankuro was... I..."_ Please don't fall to pieces, Gaara. Don't._

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Back in his apartment Detective Nara was shaken out of his thoughts; his cell phone was going off. A text message. He looked at the number_. Hyuuga Neji. Damn. _He was the designated bearer of bad news. It suited his mentality, though. The guy was always all "we are burdened by the heavy hands of fate" this or "we can but only despair in the face of our destinies" that. The text read _"murder. seventh's turf; need you at the scene"_ along with attached coordinates to the crime. Shikamaru stretched and proceeded to walk out _again_. As soon as he strode out of the building his phone went off _again_. This time it read _"bring the idiot too"_.

_Damn it all._

Why would they need Naruto?

_ Such a drag._

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	4. Chapter 2: Grotesque

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Disclaimer: So. Yeah. I am in no way in possession of the rights to the Naruto characters -I am merely borrowing them for a time for my twisted intentions.

A/N: A word, if I may? I really need feedback. What can I do to improve my writing skills? What am I doing well? Granted, I am confident in my abilities as a writer but there is always room for development. For evolution of the Way of the Pen. So, if doesn't trouble you- FEEDBACK! if it does trouble you then, no feedback.

That is all.

Read if you may.

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"Everyone is dreaming a long nightmare. Someday, you get used to it, like being numbed by poison."

-Yamato (of White Bound), "Rakuen no Tobira" ("Paradise's Door")

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Chapter Two: **Grotesque**

**Gaara stared at the dripping flesh** hanging from...everywhere. The body. That was his brother...his brother...his brother....

_ "AAAAUGH."_

Temari ran to him and held him tightly. "I'm so sorry. Don't look. Don't look."

But Gaara could not tear his eyes away. He was transfixed by the sight. Still. Slowly...he was breaking. He was—_blood....n-no. Don't look at...brother? no- dead. Gone? Gone. Dead. Who? What was he...to me? Why am I not...? where are my tears? Dead. The smell...the flesh...rotting soon...still red...red...**red**_—screaming. Something inside of him. It struggled. It writhed. It shouted for vengeance. It was howling—

_He_ was howling –

"No, Gaara!" Temari's eyes squeezed shut as she buried her face into his shoulder and braced herself for the impact. The terrifyingly erratic force of one of his rages always left something ..."broken" to say in the least.

The force never came. His teeth were clenched, his head jerked wildly. His muscles had seized, his vocal cords strained as never before. However, Gaara was in control. He was in control. _Temari will not be harmed this time._ Objects around him were being destroyed simultaneously. Everything was demolished. Corroding. Furniture upended, bowls smashed, cabinets rended apart, possessions deteriorated. Temari watched in horrified fascination as the entire living room area, as the whole kitchen shook – all except for Kankuro's room, everything was trashed within a matter of two minutes.

Only Temari was spared.

She pulled back from Gaara to study him. He was breathing hard -not from exertion- but only from the strain of holding back. His eyes were still impossibly wide and more bloodshot than they had ever been. The pupils had contracted to pinpoints.

He fell to his knees, "Tema...ri..."

She knelt beside him. "What's wrong? Is it going to...?"

He looked into her eyes. He seemed almost sad. "I'm sorry..."

She caught him as he collapsed into her lap. He twitched violently, disturbed by his inner turmoil even in such a deeply unconscious state.

A tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm sorry too..." Gaara. Her poor little brother. He suffered so much. "It's not your fault. Rest easy." She looked to Kankuro's room as she whispered, "I've failed you both." _But now? Things will be different from here on out. I won't let you down again._

"Temari? Sabakuna Temari?" A man's voice sounded form behind her. She didn't bother seeing who it belonged to. "Please step away from the area." Temari nodded and hefted her thin brother into her arms. Gaara was surprisingly light. _He needs to eat more...._

"Miss Sabakuna." Another man this time. He stood taller, and sounded courteous. Had dark, long hair and white eyes that seemed to penetrate everything. Disturbingly, they had no pupils. "If you would come this way..."

* * *

Nara Shikamaru drove up the grainy road to the "Dunes", the development where the next piece of the metaphorical puzzle had been found. He had always been good at puzzles. If he tried, he could have been at the top of his class in school when he was a kid. He was brilliant. The idiot in the passenger's seat next to him was not.

"Hey," said the idiot. "Hey, Shikamaru. What're you thinking about?" Detective Uzumaki "the idiot" queried. Shikamaru drove on in silence, determined to ignore him. _What a bother. "Bring the idiot" Neji tells me. _"Oi!" Naruto rapped on Shikamaru's head. "Anyone—?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you that you suck at making small talk?" Naruto was thrown into the dashboard as his partner jerked the car to a stop in front of the "Dunes". "Now. Get. Out."

They got going and jogged up the steps to the apartment, shoving past patrolmen and the CSIs. Hyuuga Neji was waiting for the outside with two people. Shikamaru realized knew one of them. He blinked, "...Temari?"

Temari looked up. Her lips opened slightly in surprise. "You..." she shifted the weight of the young man she was carrying.

"Uzumaki." Shikamaru jerked his head in Temari's direction. Naruto nodded and started forward.

"Here," he said as he reached Temari, "I'll take him." He pulled the man from her arms slowly; she seemed to be afraid to let him go. "We'll be right outside the door. Is that okay?"

Temari did not respond. Naruto exhaled softly, tiredly, and walked out anyway.

"Miss Temari?" Shikamaru touched her shoulder, "Would you be willing to talk to me for a couple of minutes while Detective Hyuuga observes the ...scene with Ms. Haruno?"

"...Haruno? Who is she?"

"Our medical examiner." Who was only there due to the fact that they'd have to examine it as is before they even attempted to piece the body back together, forget the CSIs.

The woman nodded slowly and blinked. Her mouth was set in a rueful smile. It was strange; it looked more like a frown. "When will you give him back to me?" her voice wavered.

The detective paused. "Who?"

She merely looked over at the...body.

He sighed, hating what he had to say next. "When we are able to apprehend his murderer. It's...evidence." He grimaced at the words; they sounded so callous. Heartless. "Of course," he continued, "if you want, you can bury him right away. He was your brother after all. But that only makes it harder to catch the killer."

Temari was silent for a moment. Then- "I'll wait. I'll wait until you catch his killer." Her expression hardened. "And I'll attend his execution. And I will smile the entire time."

Shikamaru's eyes widened. _Whoa._ "I'll have him back as soon as possible."

Temari nodded, "Good."

* * *

Hyuuga Neji stared stoically at the flesh and body parts. The patrolmen were amazed, as per usual, with the detective. This kind of sick shit didn't even seem to faze the man anymore. He was staring so intensely that the blood vessels around his eyes popped out. It freaked them out when he did that. "Haruno," he snapped, his tone clipped.

Sakura looked up at him expectantly from a ...residue... of what used to be what she determined was a hand. Maybe. Perhaps. Once. "What detective?"

"What do you make of this." Detective Hyuuga did not ever ask a question, Sakura had noticed. It was always a ventured implication or a debatable statement or a remark that hinted at curiosity. Questions and queries were beneath him. Suggestions were tolerated. Inquiries were acceptable -only because it was for the Sake of Knowledge and Finding Truth.

Sakura sighed._ This is so messed up._ "I don't even know yet."

Hyuuga's expression darkened. "What...do...you...mean." The woman annoyed him to no end. She was excessively violent with Uzumaki when the situation would not have called for it and her volume was permanently on **High**. Her choppy pink hair made her appear amateur and incompetent in his eyes. He hated amateurs. They always screwed everything sideways. Always.

The woman rolled her eyes. _What a tight-ass_. "I... I said what I meant and I meant what I said."

Did he mention that the woman irritated him? _Never a straight answer with this one. _He rubbed his face tiredly. Today was definitely not a good day. And it was only seven o'clock in the evening, damn it. "Haruno..." Fate did not smile kindly on him. No. Fate was a nasty bit—

Sakura saw his expression and relented, "I mean the person's in too many pieces to even...I don't know. I just... Why don't you try to see what you make of it?"

The stoic detective sighed. _Damn it all to hell. _The man's eyes took on an unnaturally focused quality. It was as though the eyes allowed him to see every aspect, every detail and discern what the emotive intent behind it was. "There was a great deal of ruthlessness here..." he put on gloves and trailed his fingers over the slashes of blood spatter. "Look at this."

Sakura went over to him to study the place on the walls he was indicating. She frowned. "It's clean." There was no true mess. It was too well ...calculated... to spatter in random directions and it wasn't as erratically performed as the other murders were. "This is a completely different case compared to the previous homicides. A totally different style." She glanced at Hyuuga. He was nodding in approval.

"Exactly," he smiled grimly, "what I was thinking."

"So", Sakura began, "Either this killer has evolved or..."

Neji's mouth was set in a thin line, "This is a different killer altogether..."

* * *

_The dark-haired youth was enjoying himself. His red eyes practically mixed with the blood of the massacre. He swept his arms about him and basked in the depraved glory of the corrosion of reality. All that he touched went to pieces because he willed it so. He was indomitable, he could feel the blood on him, loved the feel of the flesh running through his fingers. He decayed and diluted the humans around him. His last assignments were treats, pleasures. He laughed and laughed and—

* * *

_

Gaara awoke to the feel of a cool breeze ruffling his hair. ..._What...?_ He sat on a step on the stairwell down the hall. A man was leaning against a wall, observing him.

"So... you're awake?" The stranger's voice was smiling, amiable. It irked Gaara instantly. _Loudmouth_.

"Who are you?"

"Detective Uzumaki Naruto, the Maverick of the Hardcore Homicide Unit." He grinned even wider at the expression Gaara wore. "Only kidding." He stuck out a hand, "Hey."

Gaara stared at the hand. He stared at the ...Naruto. Glared at the hand, and snarled. "Idiot."

"Oi!" The idiot's face screwed up in irritation. It actually screwed up. "You don't even _know_ me." _So obliviously obnoxious...._

Gaara's eye twitched. "Does it look like I give a fuck?" His eye twitched again. "Go."

"What?" _Idiot...I'll kill you...**KILL...**_

"Go... away..." he was shaking now. _Stop...no-no can't no silence quiet shut don't hate you kill no stay no die die **die! "AAAAAAUUUGH"**_

Gaara leaped at Uzumaki, hands creeping up the man's neck, throttling him. _So weak...so human..._. A sickening grin stretched inhumanly across his face.

Uzumaki's eyes widened as he snarled, **_"No."_**

Gaara began to choke as the detective's fingers squeezed his throat. A fist pounded into his left cheek and he flew into a wall. "Ah!" Gaara reeled from the blow, trembling from the force which seemed to have been unnaturally brute. His body was in shock.

The detective was shaking too. _In rage...? No. In fear. Fear of himself._ He was holding back. One eye was red around the blue iris; fluid was seeping out of the corners. The blood vessels in it had burst. Uzumaki blinked slowly. He stood only a few paces away, calm and stoic. Sighed once. Then—

"Don't make me hurt you." Uzumaki's voice was vibrating with restraint. His breathing was controlled. "I don't want to hurt you." Something flickered in his eyes. Gaara couldn't determine what. A hand -the same hand that had formerly been wrapped around his throat- was outstretched. "Here," Uzumaki pulled (an unwilling) Gaara up and sat on the edge of the steps outside of the condo again. He looked up at the young man leaning against a nearby wall. He took out a cherry lollipop and began working on it. After a few minutes he popped it out and remarked, "So. Your aggression. An indicator of severe insomnia. You don't sleep well?"

Gaara's head jerked. "No." Shock. Wariness. "How could you know about it?" It wasn't an accusation. Just shock. No, Gaara did not sleep well. He did not sleep at all.

The detective sucked on the lollipop for a couple more beats then asked, "You have dreams?"

"I don't want any." _You wouldn't either if you see what I see when my eyes are shut._

Uzumaki's lollipop went back to it's former place. "Hm." He rolled it to the side and smiled wanly. "Things'll get worse now. He was your brother, after all."

Gaara stared at the ground. "What's your point?" He had never thought of Kankuro as "brother". Kankuro had feared him. The fear always made it almost impossible to stay in control around him. Just as well that he was dead. _He didn't even try to understand me. _

"Gaara?" Temari's head poked out of their apartment door. "Come on. We've got to get away from here." She glanced at the detective, who blinked. "It's not good for you." She stepped into the hall and took her brother by the arm, "You can see your new friend another time, okay?"

_New friend? What?_ "Where are we going," he muttered as the strange moro... Uzumaki waved good-bye with an idio... good-natured grin on his face. Gaara flopped his hand weakly. It was the closest thing to a friendly wave he'd ever done.

"Sunako's place. She's a nice girl. She works at the pub I run and volunteered to let us take up temporary residence at her apartment if we ever needed to or if something happened."

Silence.

"Hn...." Gaara stopped. Sunako? "Wait -_who?_"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you two will hit it off right away..."

"Worry? Hit _what?_ Temari, wait...."

* * *

Mamoru Sunako had been jolted awake in the middle of the night when she got a call from her boss, Sabakuna Temari. Apparently, a family tragedy had unfortunately happened and Miss Sabakuna had been the first to discover her brother, who was murdered in their home. It was now around nine o'clock in the morning. Sunako tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear as she sipped her fourth cup of coffee that day.

She _needed_ her coffee.

Sabakuna's other (now _only_) younger sibling, a guy named Gaara, was sitting hunched over on her couch. Temari had left him there while she went out to take care of living arrangements and The Rundown's affairs. He seemed a bit ...antisocial.

Sunako studied him. Lean and of medium height with pale skin, cool as a corpse. He had a scarlet tattoo of the character for "love" on his forehead on the left side. There was a cuff on his ear as well as fanged gauges on each lobe. He was really quiet.

"When did you get those?" Sunako _hated_ silences.

Gaara's eye rolled over slowly in it's socket without his head moving and fixed on her. It was bloodshot. And sort of creepy. "What." There were undertones of indifferent violence in that one word. Yeah. Creepy.

"The tattoo...the gauges..."

"When I was six." Whoa. Hardcore. "Gauges last year."

More silence.

"I like your hair. All rusty and whatnot."

A tarnished silver eyebrow piercing rose in askance. The eyebrows themselves were...nonexistent.

"It's a compliment. On the color..."

The rusty head tilted.

Sunako sighed. Was he really this antisocial or was he acting? "Why don't you rest? You're so tense, I can tell just by looking at you." She sat beside him and draped an afghan around his shoulders. "I've always loved this afghan. It was made by my grandmother and I...." This guy was so _tense_. "Gaara, _relax_. I won't hurt you. You're safe right now"—

He collapsed sideways and laid his head in her lap. It was kind of uncomfortable. His charcoal-rimmed eyes were open, always open. She wondered -exasperated- why he didn't just sleep. He was as still as death...and kind of cute too. His eyes were the color and shape of his sister's. "When is Temari coming back?" Temari always seemed to be working. Which was amazing. In Sunako's opinion, that girl needed rest too.

Sunako thought for a few moments. "Hm. I don't know. Just rest."

Gaara nodded and pulled the afghan closer. He needed to talk to her. Temari needed to know some things that he realized. He supposed that she had some things to let him know too. That was fine. He could wait. He always waited....

* * *


	5. Chapter 3: Red, Urges and Haunted Eyes

Disclaimer: So, still not claiming the rights to "_Naruto_"...

* * *

"I wonder about death, I who may never know it. It looks much like ecstasy, the way the fingers dig into your skin. Their eyes are wide and startled, and they thrash in your hands with an excess of passion."

- Holly Black, _Tithe

* * *

_

Chapter Three: **Red, Urges and Haunted Eyes**

**Gaara awoke from his daily meditation; he felt that insidious urge**, calling for him to perform yet another "task". Most unwise in his opinion: it had only been a couple of days since his brother died and he was still a suspect. With no alibi.

"Damn it," he muttered; Sunako, that girl that was giving them shelter, was still in the next room, now cooking him breakfast.

Not that he should to break his fast. He still needed a few more days of dipping into that trance-like state to calm himself and maintain self-control. Eating messed with the meditation and slowed down your metabolism if you were digesting food at that time.

He needed to get away. He briefly considered jumping out the window, but neighbors would possibly ask questions and questions were not good. On the other hand....

Gaara opened the door to the guest bedroom and peered into the hall. Smells of fried rice and shrimp perfumed the air as he went to the kitchen. His stomach growled. Too bad he couldn't stay and eat.

He walked right up behind Sunako and waited. As if she sensed his presence she turned suddenly and shrieked, "Ack! Snake eyes!"

Gaara stared at her. "What?" This was a strange human. He had never met the like. Not that he had much experience dealing with them. At all. He glanced around and spotted a couple of red apples on the table. He pocketed them. Red apples were the perfect food, in his mind.

Sunako seemed embarrassed. "S-sorry. You surprised me. Um, what is it? That you want, I mean." Her cheeks colored and she looked down.

Gaara tilted his head. "I'm going out."

Sunako shook her head. "No. Temari said not to let—"

"She'll understand." He began to step to the front, then turned for the door. "Tell her I won't be back for another night."

With a sweep of his coat, he was gone. It would soon be time to go hunting....

* * *

Then, in another time, at another place, a family of three was eating a nice home-cooked pasta dinner. They were quite well to do and very happy. But, all of a sudden a strange figure with a great black coat strode in and slammed the door shut. The parents of the child were much afraid. "What do you want from us?"

The stranger said nothing for a time, as the look in his eyes spoke volumes. They spoke of murder and hatred. _"Look at me. This is what you did,"_ they seemed to be saying, _"You know who I am."_

The father saw the stranger and realized that he was indeed no stranger to him.

"Do not hurt us!" the pathetic, cowardly mother shrieked. She was crying, unmindful of the child who saw and understood that her mother had reason to be frightened. This child was perceptive, as most children are. Adults do not often know this.

But the father, who was at the very least a scientist of some virtue, said to the strange man, "I care not what you do to us. But please, have mercy on our daughter. She knows nothing of this. She is not involved with them. I swear it." He then bowed his head, silently begged gods he had never before believed in to help the stranger make the right choice, and waited for his death. "She doesn't know about any of this. It is our fault. I know. Just, spare her."

There was a pause...a slight smile...

It came kindly, swiftly for him. He did not have time to scream. He first saw that he was flying through the air. But no- his body was still standing; it must be his head that was flying, severed so cleanly that the synapses could not register the fact that he had died. Mercifully, his brain continued functioning long enough so that his eyes rested on his daughter one last time as his body crumpled to the floor. He smiled reassuringly at her before his world went black.

The woman soundlessly quaked, numb to the fact that her husband was on the floor. In two parts. She turned her gaze to the stranger and, had she not been paralyzed with blind terror, she would have realized that he was younger even than she. He had the pale face of a child whose innocence had been torn from him. Now, years later, grown into adulthood, the hard absence of that innocence had continued to hurt him to that day.

That child's eyes were haunted. His eyes were haunted. Terrifyingly so. And, inside of them, if she looked deeply enough, listened to him hard enough, she would hear that child inside screaming. Just screaming, _How could you do this to me?_

The woman closed her eyes as her body was lifted up, though the stranger had not laid a finger upon her. Nor did he even pay attention to her whimpers. In fact, he was gazing at the child.

"Do you really wish to witness this?" he asked her.

The child was terrified as well, but she met his stare with resolve. She had to be strong for Daddy.

The look in her eyes must have been answer enough.

A mere second later her mother's body was torn to shreds and the flesh splattered everywhere. It sounded as though a great animal had rent her mother's body apart and the meat and hide had exploded in the same instant.

The scent of blood flooded the girl's nostrils and she retched. Shudders wracked her body. She crumpled to the floor; her hands fell into the pieces of muscle and bone and her own bile, and she shook harder. She brought her hands before her eyes, detached and staring numbly; the contrast between that red blood and her own light brown skin seemed strangely complementary.

The girl was suddenly repulsed by her thoughts. She should not be noticing these things. It seemed wrong to her.

It would be years later that she realized that this sensation was called shock.

She turned to look at the stranger. "Do I go too?" she asked. _Am I next?_ She noticed for the first time that his eyes were the color of the Mexican Gulf she once visited. Sea-foam green. Or mint. Warm or cool? Burning or chilling?

The young man merely walked over to a nearby lamp, picked a piece of the body off of it (a fire hazard to leave flesh on a lamp, he figured) and looked down dispassionately at the dinner table. He glanced back at her. "I got your mom in your spaghetti dinner."

The girl was numb. She said nothing. After all, how do you respond to that?

He loped towards her and she stood, remote, waiting for the hurt—

One of her eyes cracked open to see a large red apple in front of her. "Eat this in the morning. You'll need your strength."

Her father taught her that she should always be polite to strangers, so she murmured a shaken "thank you".

He nodded silently and stood silently watching her – to make sure that she finished it, just like his caretaker did with him. He remembered that kids were inclined to hate healthy foods.

"Um . . . What does the red mark on your head mean?" She whispered between munches. There was a moment of mind-numbing silence, and the little girl wondered, terrified, if she had offended him.

". . . Love."

And as the child sat on her (bloodied) couch eating her apple (like a good girl), she wondered why the strange man with the character for "**love**" on his head looked so alone.

* * *


	6. Interlude: Abandoned

Disclaimer: I hold no rights when it comes to the property of "Naruto". I am just weaving a story with the characters' personalities, likenesses etc.

This is another glance into the mind of Gaara.

* * *

"...Still, you do not answer." - Kanon Wakeshima, _"Still Doll"

* * *

_

Interlude**: Abandoned**

I've never been without this feeling. It follows me everywhere. Everywhere.

_**Why won't you see my pain?!**_

It's like an itch that can't be reached or a constant voice at the back of my head. Always there. Always whispering. I've always felt betrayed. By the ones around me. They were supposed to love me. Not fear me. Never fear me.

_**How could you...? How could you do this to me? **_

Ever since that day... all I have thought about was this. All I have thought about was my pain. All I have remembered was the fact that you left me.

_**Can you even remember me? I'm still here. **_

I would see you sometimes... Most of the time in the unlikeliest of places. And you would stop and ask me how I was, and how far I was progressing. Sometimes. But soon you forgot about me...

_**Why won't you look at me? Please. Look at me.**_

And I realized that I was just another toy to you. Only another thing to play with. A puppet. A doll. Manipulated to do whatever you wanted. Since before I was born, I was made for your purposes.

_**Can you see it? What you've created? You did this to me.**_

I despised this fact. It hurt to the point where I began to feel that there was nothing left for me and I started to waste away. Slowly, slowly. It hurt so much...

_**Why can't you see me?! Look at me! ...I'm broken...**_

All of these words, all of these thoughts lay buried deep within the depths of my soul. All of my resent and humiliation and hate and anger. I crushed those negative emotions and turned them on myself; I would not allow those emotions to be felt. I could not allow it. It would destroy me.

_**Can't you hear me?**_

All of those words lay deep within my soul. All of those thoughts and emotions.... They were killing me. They were screaming. At the very bottom of everything I was screaming and wailing in pain. I was screaming for so long that, now, to this day, I don't know how to stop. Look at what you did to me.

_Look at me.... Look at me...

* * *

_


	7. Chapter 4: Praying

Disclaimer: I don't own _Naruto_.

* * *

"One can never be as happy as one seems." -Valencia, _"_Que Sera Sera"

* * *

Chapter Four: **Shitty days and Matricide**

Seventh squad was gathered in their wing of the precinct, surrounding a table with pictures strewn across it and a whiteboard with a diagram. Shikamaru, the squad captain, sat at the head of the table enjoying his smokes while Naruto sat across from him, Neji standing in front of the whiteboard nearby.

"So, how are we going to take care of this?" Neji asked, the corners of his mouth tilted down, his face showing evidence of strain. They had all been working at this new case obsessively and all of them were getting exhausted.

Shikamaru shook his head mechanically. "I have no idea what to tell our superiors. This is getting entirely out of hand. I don't know if we can handle it."

Naruto frowned, his normally bright expression careworn and weary. "There has to be something...something we're not getting.... We just need to find it, that's all. Something..." He wracked his brains desperately, unable to think of something without jeopardizing himself or his secrets. No such luck. It was all gone to shit.

Sakura appeared on the hologram hanging near the top of the floating whiteboard. "Hey, guys. I was going to recommend that Neji come back down and help me examine this again, but actually, I think you should _all_ get down here. _Now_."

They stood and made their way through the section of regular police who were staring openly at the Horrors. One of them sneered at Naruto, who smirked and snapped like a dog in the officer's direction. The man instantly recoiled, afraid of the Horror, of what the lot of them were capable of. They'd all heard stories about the ones that regulated the people that belonged to the Seventh Squad. And the crimes that they committed in order to prevent others.

Naruto rubbed his eyes tiredly and opened the doors to the morgue. "Hey, Sakura. What do yo have for us?"

Sakura was standing by a table with the remains of the dead man spread out over it. Other tables with other bodies were out. The room looked like its occupants had gone through a meat-grinder. Sakura had on her smock, filthy and up to her chest in flesh. "First, Neji. Look at them and tell me what they all have in common."

Neji blinked. For an instant he thought that she was messing with him, but then shook his head at the thought: they couldn't afford to mess around at a time like this. He took off his glove and spread his fingers, his hand passing over each mound of human meat. A series of scenes and colors and textures passed through his brain and the energies shifted as he gazed at the "bodies". He came to the newest the stopped, turned around and went back to one of the first. He appeared puzzled for a moment. "This isn't right..."

"What...?" Naruto leaned against the far wall while Shikamaru wished desperately for his smokes. "What isn't right?"

Neji looked at them. "There's more than..." He passed over them all once more before saying, "He was one of us."

Naruto went rigid. He rounded on Neji, "The hell does that mean?" His fists, clenched were shaking with outrage and panic. "How could the victim possibly be—!"

Shikamaru shook his head, his eyes closed with a sad weariness one only acquires after years of that horrible kind of knowing that came from experience. "He isn't talking about the vic. Naruto...it was the killer."

Naruto's face fell, his expression a painted mask of disillusionment and horror. "No...not..."

Sakura burst into tears. "Sasuke..."

* * *

"Gods curse it!"Temari was furious at her brother. Just as she should be. "Gaara. You can't be _doing_ this shit!" He had killed again. Again, when she had specifically told him not to even go _outside_. She knew it wasn't his fault, but still... "Going off and killing whoever Baba Chiyo says to is _not_ how you'll keep yourself alive and out of jail!" Chiyo, the founder of HiddenSands, was behind half of their problems. Their great-grandmother was so stuck in her horrid ways; Temari swore that the old woman was going to be the death of them. _Really, we _will_ probably die because of that irrational old hag._

Gaara began, "I told Sunako—"

Temari's fist hit the table. A cup, unbalanced, toppled and rolled off the table. The sound of shattering glass on the tiles was voluminous. "I don't _care!_" She ran a shaky hand through her loose hair. "If they catch on... if they figure it out..." _Oh, god, to think what they would do to him..._

Gaara shrugged, "But they won't." He uncrossed his arms to pick up an apple from the table and...eat...it.

Temari sat back in her chair. _Unbelievable. _"How the hell do _you_ know?" She shook her head as if she could somehow shake off her irritation. "No, Gaara. We need to consider all possibilities." She stood and began to pace. "We have to lay low." What would it take to make him understand?

Gaara watched her as he munched on his fruit. "_We?_" In Gaara's mind, there was no "we", only "me". He had only ever had himself to rely on. He was taught to believe that was how things were always going to be.

"Yes, the both of us." A pair of turquoise eyes rolled upward. Temari prayed for guidance. ".... Don't let me rise up and choke the _snot _out of my brother..."

Gaara observed her muted utterances in silent bemusement. "You couldn't." He said this as a simple acknowledgement of his possession of more power, and that even if she tried to defy him... it would suffice to say that she would not last very long.

Temari stared at her little brother in wan sadness, "Aren't I your sister Gaara? Don't you see me as family?" She hated whenever he got like this.

Gaara slowly finished off his apple and crushed the core out of existence. "Don't make me answer that question again, Temari." He trudged out of the kitchen and into the guest room, leaving his sibling to deal with her emotional turmoil herself. Though, why she had herself getting so worked up, he had no idea. And, honestly? He didn't want to find out.

He slammed the door shut and sat on the bed trying to think. But, he couldn't. The room was dark -which was how he liked it. No mirrors. They usually cracked in his presence. It was due to the aura that surrounded him. A horrid aura. A killing aura. Something that no one could contain. No one except for him. Containing was all that he was good for. He was a cage. Caged. Not today, though. Today, he felt boxed in. Twice as much as usual. He could hear Temari making choking sounds in the next room and knew instinctively that what she was choking on were her tears. He knew it was all his fault. He looked to the shuttered window. Maybe if he could just—

As the shutters were blown off the window, he pushed into the outside and jumped. The day was gray, the clouds overhead stagnant and thick. Gaara drew his coat closer about him and stalked away.

He wandered aimlessly for hours, just moving along, unaware of where he was going, head down, until it became too dark. He realized that Temari would be worried about him. And she couldn't call the police department to locate him. Not with his "job" being what it was. One of these days it might actually be a relief to get a real career. If he was be capable of handling it. Something he doubted very much.

He glanced around. _Damn_. _Where am I? _

"Hello," a bright youthful voice said. "Would you like me to help you?" The bright voice came from the general direction on Gaara's left. Gaara turned and came nose to nose with a pale, blonde female. Her summer sky eyes stared straight into his; her gaze was unwavering, a feat in of itself.

"Who are you?"

"Yamanaka Ino. Call me whatever you like, formality is not needed when addressing me." She started to walk into a nearby shop but, when she noticed he wasn't following, she sighed, "Do you want me to help you? Or not?" The toe of her high heels were tapping on the pavement impatiently.

"Fine." Gaara figured the best way to get away from her was to do whatever she wanted. Many humans were similar in this. He had learned this long ago.

"Then," she stepped back and smiled, "come into my shop. You look like you could do with some relaxation."

Total and complete shock. Yamanaka's Flowers was vibrant. There was no other way to describe it. The shop was so tastefully arranged that the atmosphere was peaceful, yet charged with energy. And that energy seemed to flow in all directions like roads leading to the place where a person wanted to be in life. Or maybe it was all in Gaara's head. He could never be sure. A lot of what he thought was real seemed to be only in his head. Maybe everything was. "What do you want from me?"

"What _I_ want is irrelevant." Ino smiled again, a knowing smile, "I just try to help people in need of something, whether it be the right flowers for making the perfect date a reality or talking to those who have nowhere else to turn."

"How do you know what I need, Yamanaka?"

"It's like I said," Ino swept past him imperiously, "I just have a _feel _about things involving people." She switched the sign on the door to _Closed_. "Right now, you are my customer." She led him down a hallway and into a softly lit blue room. There were futons and chairs in a circle as well as a punching bag off in one corner and puzzles on the floor. Sometimes it helped her patients to open up or concentrate whenever that had something to fiddle with. "Please, sit down, mister...?"

"Gaara. Sabakuna Gaara." He decided to come right out with everything. "I killed a little girl's parents right in front of her eyes." He watched Ino's face for signs of terror. "And then I gave her an apple. They were my hundred and eighty-sixth kill." She did not blink once. _No reaction? _"Before that, I have exterminated a man who was a politician, a pregnant woman, a drug addict –"

"Hold it," Ino held up her hand. "Backtrack for just a minute. Tell me something. If you're okay with my asking, who was the first to die?"

There was a heavy pause, the silence hanging in the air like a lead weight. "My mother." Gaara looked into the woman's eyes. She regarded him blandly. "Matricide is a sin, did you know that?"

"Yes. I know." Ino sat back on her futon and elegantly crossed her legs. "How did it happen, Sabakuna?"

"I was born."

* * *

Down at their headquarters, Nara was having the shittiest time ever. After the news imparted by Neji and Sakura's revelation the next four hours mostly consisted of consoling a devastated woman. Shikamaru shook his head. _Shit. We've got better things to do. _Now, as he sat back and enjoyed his frapp, he squeezed his eyes shut, bone-tired. The latest homicide was almost as disturbing as the last one. As was the witness. A little girl who had seen the entire thing. She sat like a grave little porcelain doll all through the ride to the precinct. She had not spoken a word to anyone until Uzumaki had showed up. He always was good with the kids. Shikamaru figured it was because Uzumaki was still sort of a kid himself. Uzumaki never really had a childhood, growing up too early, so he was probably making up for that loss now.

"The Lieutenant wants some progress, Nara. She wants good news." Captain Yamato walked over to Shikamaru, his intense stare pinned on the detective. "So. Anything on who the little witness saw?"

Shikamaru shivered. _Gods, that man's so damned creepy. _"Naruto's been working with her but... we got nothing." Shikamaru leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck. "Nothing. All we've been getting is—"

"He was a really sad man," the little girl, Hanabi, had been saying to Naruto. He usually worked with young witnesses because he had a way about him, something that made a person want to trust him and confide in him. Something that made people want to walk with him at his side, and talk to him. Many in the force were unable to decide on whether it was charisma or enthusiasm that did it. Everyone agreed however that with something like that, someone different would have abused such a trait for their own gain. Not Uzumaki, though. A pure soul if they ever saw one.

But since Hanabi was a Hyuuga, the Lieutenant Yuuhi didn't want Neji getting personal with the case, even though Naruto knew that Neji hardly cared, seeing as how the Hyuuga was nearly an orphan himself. All Naruto knew of Neji's family was that he was estranged from the main family and all he had left was a little sister.... Neji was a secretive kind of guy. Most of the rest of the section were not even aware of that much.

"Did you notice anything special about him?"

Hanabi thought back, still drawing feverishly with the crayons they gave her. "His eyes looked like water. Salty water. And spearmint gum. But they were dry. And they looked..." she paused. "His eyes looked like mine did when I couldn't find mama in the market once and I was really scared and I didn't know what to do and I was all alone even though there was lots of people around me but I didn't know _any_ of 'em..." She looked straight into Naruto's eyes and he saw something in them that no child should have. Weariness. These eyes were veteran's eyes. That kind people get after fighting war. Or from being the lone survivor of something like this. She was strong, this one.

"He was lost?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh." She did not know why she was able to talk about the murderer; something inside her told her that she should be grieving. But she felt numb and cold inside, like she was only asleep and she was just having a scary dream...

Naruto sat back on the floor and started drawing on a paper, too. "Did he hurt you or scare you?" There was a large golden-red fox forming slowly on his paper. A very angry fox. It was run around in a swirl, curving itself around a yellow-haired, whisker-faced child with a blue shine drawn around it. This child was smiling but was slumped down on its knees, alone in the picture. "We need to know in case he does it again."

"No. _He_ didn't scare me. _Hurting_ scared me. And how he was all lost and 'fraid of it in his eyes when he looks at you. _That_ scared me 'cos I don' like being lost." Hanabi looked down at her knees. The blood was gone from them now and she had changed out of her clothes she got sick in. But she still felt like the blood was still there. She could see it. She could see it. She smelled it. "Why do you need to know? Daddy said Daddy deserved it. Daddy said he knew it was his fault and for the man not to blame me too."

_So the guy knew it was coming? And he trusted the stranger not to harm his little girl? That explained the smile on his face. That also meant he knew the stranger. _ "What did he mean?" Naruto stored this bit of information in his head. "How did he deserve it?"

Hanabi bit her lip, a nervous gesture that she acquired from a friend at school. "Daddy was one of the ones who made the man really sad. I remember when he said he knew, and he was waiting. Daddy knew when all of his friends started showing up on the news." She fidgeted. "But the man gave me an apple. He was nice to me." She hadn't known what to make of the stranger from the start, anyhow.

"....Nice to you?" _Okay, I'll bite._ Naruto made a face of exaggerated thought, squinting his eyes and crossing his arms. "Like, how?"

Hanabi giggled at Naruto. He actually looked foxy in that moment, what with the jagged tribal whisker tattoos on his face. But, she grew somber again as she remembered her father's body on the floor. "He...when Daddy got...he says "D'you rilly wanna winness this?" and I nodded 'cos Daddy always taught me to be strong...and then when Mama was...when she got—" She paused. "When Mama went apart...he said he was sorry for getting her in our spaghetti dinner. And I didn't go all in bits like Mama did _and_ I got to keep my head..."

"That _is_ nice of him." Naruto remarked. Hell, he'd be grateful too if he got to keep his head in that situation.

The girl nodded seriously. "Yeah. That's when he gave me an apple. Said it was 'a'cos I would need my strength...and cos he spoiled the s'ghetti. So I thanked him."

Naruto tilted his head to the side, unknowingly and forcibly reminding the girl of the stranger. "What? Why?"

She swung her legs as she concentrated on making it so that the moon smiled in her picture. "Well...Daddy said to always be polite. That way, if you see 'em again, they'll remember your kindness and it'll come back ten times as much." The sun on the other end of the sky was red.

_Well, that was pretty sage advice. _"You know what? I remember when I was lost for a time. I was six years old—"

"What?" Hanabi gasped, "_I'm_ six!"

"Nuh-uh!" Naruto gaped. "No way!" Exclamation was best when dealing with children. Naruto lived by the four E's: Exclamation, Exaggeration, Elucidation and ...Emprovisation—okay, so it was actually "improvisation" but he needed another E and Empiric + Improvisation combined worked just fine for him.

She nodded vigorously. "I am."

"That's amazing!"

"Yeah! _You_ were six and _I'm_ six now." She set down her crayons for the first time in hours, "But, what happened when you were lost?"

"Well, I'm an orphan, so I felt lost all the time. No one talked to me, 'cause kids are like that, you know?"

Hanabi nodded wisely. She knew alright.

"They usually act weird when they find out you don't have parents. Their parents told them not to play with me, too. They said I was bad luck, so I kinda ended up being punished for acting out a lot. I figured that they thought I would only ever be bad and started believing the same thing. So I got myself into trouble. I mean, what else would I do? They all expected nothing from me so I gave 'em nothing." Naruto remembered those days. The beatings, the fights, the expulsions, the suspensions, the reputation and the condescension. Oh, yeah. Those days.... They were horrible. "You might go through something just as bad."

"Oh. What did you do?" Hanabi sat, head bowed, wearing an anxious expression. Her fingers clutched at the edges of her sunflower dress.

Naruto beamed. "Showed 'em I wasn't a pushover and proved to 'em all that I could be somethin' great." He leaned in so that he could meet her downcast eyes. "You'll do alright. I know it. I got a feeling you're gonna turn out just as well as I—"

"I sincerely hope not." A woman stood in the doorway, lounging against the frame. "I do worry about you, Naruto." The little girl gave Naruto a small smile at that. "Come on, Uzumaki. You have desk duty."

Naruto groaned. "Ah, _man_, Kurenai. Why?"

Kurenai glanced at him so sharply he almost felt himself get flayed. "That's_ Lieutenant_ _Yuuhi_ to you, _Detective_ Uzumaki."

Uzumaki nodded and picked himself up off the floor. His carefree expression fell from his face as soon as he reentered the hall, and he focused on pulling himself together. He never thought he would have to face this again. He slumped down against the wall. An oppressive feeling was swamping him...he couldn't give in...not now...not when he had come so far...

"Hey." Shikamaru was shaking his shoulder. "Are you doing okay?" Naruto jumped up, pulling on the mask of light-heartedness he had worn for so long.

"Never better," he grinned widely. He couldn't let anyone know. He couldn't let anyone know that he knew exactly who the next victim was.

* * *

Temari felt horrible. Her brother must think she was so weak now. She knew he had heard her crying. She just hadn't meant for him to hear. It had been hours since she had seen him. She had tried his cell phone for the fifth time and, when he did not answer, was about to leap out the front door. But the phone on the endtable in Sunako's place rang, insistently, calling for Temari to pick it up.

Temari sighed, then returned to the kitchen. "Hello."

"Hello great-granddaughter. Would you like to drop by old Auntie's for a visit?"

"Baba Chiyo." Temari felt the air in her lungs condense and liquify. She thought for a second that she was drowning. This woman, this old crone, was the one responsible for Gaara's pain. "I'd be delighted."


End file.
